


Time After Time

by Einzel



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, F/M, Nonbinary Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 11:04:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15629382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Einzel/pseuds/Einzel
Summary: College AU meets Coffee Shop AU, or Touko discovers that the only thing better than “my table” is “our table,” and the waitress has her share of the fun, too.





	Time After Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ikuzonos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikuzonos/gifts).



Lightning flashed across a sky tinged gray. Touko bit her lower lip and shook her head, but the clouds didn’t heed her silent protest. Thunder rumbled and the heavens burst into pins and needles, prickling Touko’s scalp and bare arms as she scrambled across campus and crashed through the doors of the Two Pairs Café, two disheveled braids clinging to her damp shoulders and a stack of dog-eared library books pressed to her chest. The moment she threw her back against the door and pushed it closed, her glasses misted over with condensation, but led by a sense of familiarity, Touko trudged over to her usual table and dumped her books all over its weathered surface before plopping down on the chair closest to it. She drew ragged breaths as she wiped her clammy forehead and pinched off her glasses to wipe them on a loose corner of her blouse. As she dabbed the lenses dry, Touko thought she heard a rasp, then another. The third time, she realized it was a cough, or more precisely, someone clearing their throat to get her attention.

Touko squeaked and popped her glasses back on, to find a young man with windswept locks of pale hair and a framed pair of cold eyes staring at her from across the table. _Her_ table.

“Y-Yes?” mumbled Touko, shoulders hunched and her brow furrowed. The stranger gave her a look over the cup in their hand.

“You are sitting at my table,” they threw a dirty glance at her books scattered every which way, one of them half resting on a coaster that cup had been sitting on a moment ago. Touko flushed and squirmed in her seat, but did not move.

“I… I-I will have you know,” she began, her voice paper thin, “that this is my _usual_ table, s-so it is, in fact, _my_ table…”

“I do not see your name on it,” came the unflappable reply. Touko chewed her lips, but before she could think of some clever proof to give the stranger, she was interrupted by the smart taps of an equally smart pair of mary janes as the server stopped by their _(her)_ table.

“It’s nice to see you again so soon, Fukawa-san,” chirped Maizono Sayaka, her smile the warmest thing in the room. Touko felt the corners of her lips twitch upward in gratitude, her heart swelling as Sayaka added, “Would you like the usual?”

“Yes.. _please,”_ mumbled Touko, the tips of her index fingers pressed together. Sayaka hummed. Opposite her, the stranger nudged Touko’s book off their coaster, set down their cup, and cleared their throat once more.

“Excuse me,” they addressed Sayaka, tone curt and their lips pursed. Sayaka tilted her head.

“Would you like another drink?” she flashed them a smile, for which she received a mild glare.

“That is hardly the issue here,” the stranger gestured to Touko, whose hands clasped together in her lap. Sayaka tapped her right fist to her chin.

“Of course, I understand,” she brought down her fist against the flat of her left palm. “Please excuse me, I’ll be right back,” she pivoted on her heels and left for the counter. Two tables away, a girl with freckles and dark, shoulder-length hair lifted an awkward hand. Sayaka caught the gesture from the corner of her eye and turned to face the girl like clockwork.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” she performed a quick bow and disappeared behind the counter. The girl dropped her hand with a whispered _thank you_ and shrank in her seat, as if abashed at her own nerve. Touko rolled her eyes, but caught herself in time and turned her attention to the sad and sorry state of her table. Ignoring the stranger’s inquisitive looks and the way they folded their arms over their chest, she gathered her books one by one and fashioned them into a stack on the left-hand side. By the time she had aligned the edges, Sayaka returned with a towel, which she presently offered to Touko. Touko gaped at her, but accepted it with a hum and wiped down her arms. Sayaka gave a cheerful nod and turned to the stranger.

 _“There,_ I believe that should do it,” she tilted her head with another smile, unflappable in her own charming way. “I will bring your drink in a minute, Fukawa-san,” she told Touko, then performed a curtsy and glided over to the freckled girl’s table, where she had been sorely missed and much anticipated. Touko’s eyes followed her as she patted her braids dry. The stranger unfurled their arms and cleared their throat a final time.

“Since I am stuck with you for now, I suppose we should introduce ourselves,” they laced their fingers together over the tabletop. “My name is Togami Byakuya.”

“Fukawa.. Touko,” muttered Touko. “And.. I, _I’m_ the one who’s stuck with _you,”_ she rubbed her braids a little harder. “I told you it was _my_ table… You heard what she said..!”

“You mean the waitress?” Byakuya’s eyes shifted to Sayaka, who seemed to be taking the world’s longest order with the utmost patience.

“Who else would I mean…” Touko squinted at them. Byakuya’s gaze lingered on the freckled girl for a moment longer, but a question unspoken was a question unanswered, so they uncoupled their hands and slipped an elbow onto the table, their jaw cradled in their hand and their eyes fixed on Touko.

“If this truly _is_ your table, then you must come here regularly.”

“Y-Yes, that’s right,” Touko pressed her knees together and straightened in her chair. “I come here, after classes… to unwind.”

“Classes, you say… are you a student?”

“Yes. I major in, Japanese literature… and creative writing,” Touko’s eyes flitted to her stack of books and back to Byakuya.

 _“Ah.”_ Their tone rang a little too flat for her liking. “I’m an economics and political science major myself.”

 _“Ah,”_ Touko returned the sentiment. A dry smile lurked in the taut corners of Byakuya’s lips.

“W-Well, if, you’ll excuse me,” Touko reached for her stack and withdrew the novel on top, parting it on either side of a worn bookmark, “I.. have a lot of reading to do…”

She received no reply, so she inclined her head and let the world of the text draw her in. Her eyes shimmered behind her round glasses as the heroine, a young witch, braved the treacherous path down the mountainside towards the shore, to meet the one who had stolen her heart. Her cheeks grew rosy and her lips quivered as she mouthed the witch’s lines. Opposite her, Byakuya averted their eyes.

“Here’s your rose hip tea,” came Sayaka’s voice, startling Touko into tapping her book shut. Sayaka placed a coaster by her right hand, set a gently steaming cup on top, and turned to Byakuya. “Would you like another cup of coffee?”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Byakuya withdrew a bill from their pocket and offered it to her. “This should cover the drink and service.”

“As you wish,” Sayaka took the money and walked over to the cash register. Byakuya rose from their seat.

“I shall leave you to your reading,” they said to Touko on their way to the door, and by the time Sayaka rung up their change, they had vanished.

* * *

Three days later, Touko returned to the café and settled down by her table, this time with a thick binder and a lined notepad. She opened the notepad and turned the pages, savoring the black lace of her tight, minute handwriting until she reached the last filled page, then opened her binder and leafed through it for one specific collage of short sentences. They were terse, but deceptively so; vague, but evocative. They had caught her attention on the pages of magazines, on posters and billboards, and she snatched them with a pair of scissors or her pen, to file them away for an afternoon just like this one…

A shadow spilled over her and she tugged her notepad off the table and into the shadows of her lap. Her eyes darted up to see Byakuya, who pulled out the chair opposite her and made themselves comfortable. Touko gave them a look, half incredulous, half awed. Byakuya withstood her gaze.

“I am merely returning the favor,” they said in a nonchalant tone. “Last time, you encroached on my table. Now it is my turn to encroach on yours.”

Touko blushed. _The nerve…!_

“V-Very well, if you must…” she snuck her notepad back onto the table, curling an arm in front of it for privacy. Her pen pecked at the next empty page, but the words had burrowed too deep underground to be fetched back so easily.

Byakuya watched her for a bit, then cleared their throat, but before they could speak, Sayaka glided into place by their side.

“Here’s your tea, Fukawa-san,” she served Touko, and turned to Byakuya next. “Welcome back… Togami-san, was it? May I take your order?”

“Yes… and _yes._ Bring me an espresso,” replied Byakuya. Sayaka curtsied and moved on to another table further away, where the freckled girl from three days ago sat gripping the drink menu for dear life. Touko instinctively peered at her, and Byakuya allowed themselves to do likewise.

“Do you know her?” they asked at last. Touko blinked.

“N-No… but I see her often, around the campus,” she cradled her notepad closer. “She comes here nearly every day, and orders the daily special… I-It’s a ruse, of course,” she adjusted her glasses with a frown.

“A ruse?” prompted Byakuya.

“I-It’s only so she can _ogle her,”_ Touko nodded to Sayaka. “It’s always the same charade… She asks about the daily special, s-so she has a reason to talk to her.. Then stammers her order, and waits… and nothing ever happens. It’s, pathetic… like she’s caught in a time loop, and because she always fails her quest, the cycle begins anew…” Touko shot one last reproachful glare in the girl’s general direction. As she spoke, her notepad gradually shifted away from her chest, like a drawbridge being lowered.

“And what about you?” asked Byakuya. Touko squeaked.

“Wh-What do you mean? Do you think, that I… _I would never,_ I’m only here to read, and write…” she shrank in her seat and stared at her notepad.

“For your creative writing class?” Byakuya nodded at her binder. Touko’s cheeks bloomed pink.

“Exactly..! I cannot believe you remembered… An _economics_ major…”

“I thought it curious at the time,” replied Byakuya. “And what are you writing?” they leaned forward slightly. The drawbridge closed at once.

 _“I can’t show you!”_ Touko wrapped her arms around the notepad.

“Why not,” Byakuya quirked a brow.

“I do not let, _strangers_ read my writing… I, would only share it with my _friends,_ if I…”

“…had any?” Byakuya finished her sentence without any discernible malice, the way one might state a simple fact: that the sky was blue, the clouds were white, and Byakuya’s eyes were a stunning teal somewhere in-between.

 _“Right…”_ Touko’s shoulders drooped. Byakuya paused.

“Shall I leave you, then?” they asked, but before Touko could even consider the offer, a swish of long blue hair put it quite out of her mind.

“Here’s your espresso, Togami-san,” Sayaka stepped over, placing a coaster and a small cup in front of Byakuya. She bowed and fluttered off, no doubt to work her magic on some other patron. Touko pursed her lips.

 _“Well.._ now that you have your coffee.. I suppose you must want to _drink_ it…”

“I would,” replied Byakuya. Touko hummed.

“Then you may, stay… b-but don’t be nosy! I, I don’t have to put up with that!” Touko gave them a strict glare. Byakuya looked her right in the eye and took a leisurely sip of their espresso. Touko’s shoulders relaxed.

“Well then.. _Here I go…”_ she placed her notepad on the table again, keeping it close to the edge and shielding it with an arm, just to be safe. Her binder lay to the side, hopelessly closed, but she didn’t need it anymore: she had found inspiration that could not be claimed with scissors or copied with a pen, right in front of her.

And so Touko wrote, and Byakuya drank, quiet but comfortable, until Byakuya paid and left without their change.

* * *

From that day forward, Touko and Byakuya found themselves in a long and elaborate game of tag, where there was no greater privilege than arriving first to claim that much coveted spot as _“my_ table” before the other would come, sit down without prompting, and make it _“our_ table” – a title that only acquired a hint of sweetness over time.

At first, they pursued their own interests in contented silence: Touko had her books and binders, and Byakuya their coffee and the occasional business journal. But every now and again, none of it could distract for long enough, and so they engaged in careful conversation, just to pass the time. Byakuya expressed familiarity with some of Touko’s reading, and Touko discussed them with a spark in her eyes and none of her usual nervous stutter. In return, she inquired about Byakuya’s studies, and learned that they were planning to take over their father’s conglomerate by amassing knowledge and qualifications beyond their elder siblings’ claims. (Touko thought their ambitions and efforts impressive, and they thought her discernment and dedication admirable. Under the weight of their honesty, the ice cracked a little faster.)

As the weeks passed, their usual distractions began to take a backseat to their discourse. There was always an opinion worth seeking, a preference worth discussing, drinks and food to try off the café’s menu, or something to stare at: a wisp of hair falling between her lilac eyes, the statuesque quality of their features in the light… and when they caught themselves staring at each other for too long, they would talk about something else, like the freckled girl sitting two tables away, whose plot Touko had since taken into her own hands – on paper, at least.

“Just how long is she planning to wait…” she muttered to herself and Byakuya as she picked up a pink macaron from the plate between them.

“Until the perfect moment arrives, I imagine,” Byakuya took a yellow macaron.

“Perfect moment.. _Hah!”_ huffed Touko, glaring at the plate and its colorful display. “There’s no such thing as a perfect moment… no situation, is ever truly perfect,” she took a hard bite of her macaron. “We can’t control every circumstance, or how anyone might feel about us… all we can do is be brave, and leap…”

 _“Brave…”_ echoed Byakuya. Something in their tone made Touko look, swallow, and cast down her eyes, her belly aching with butterflies.

 _“Yes…”_ she stared at the sad remains of the macaron between her fingers, at its crumbling edges and oozing center. “If, we are scared to be true to ourselves, and to say what we want, _we will never…”_

She didn’t finish; she didn’t have to. Perhaps she was still afraid to, but she didn’t have tell Byakuya that.

“I suppose you are right,” replied Byakuya in absolute reverie, and all Touko could do was nod in growing misery.

Five minutes later, Byakuya paid and left, and two tables away, the freckled girl bonked her forehead against the tabletop, her hand clenched around a crumpled drink menu.

Had she been less self-conscious, Touko might have done the same.

* * *

**Two months later…**

Touko sat at their table and idly tugged on the next page of her library book, her attention torn between the text and the entrance of the Two Pairs Café. With each thump of the handle and creak of the doors, she whipped up her head, then sighed and slumped in her chair, a frown twisting her lips. It wasn’t as though they had ever set a date and time for these tete-a-tetes, _and yet…_ she even put on a new dress today…

The handle dipped sharply and Touko’s eyes darted over, to see a young woman enter the café. Seized by a strange sense of déja vu, Touko let her eyes wander down that shapely frame, from the pale tresses of hair down to the dark suit jacket, a matching pencil skirt, and a pair of slender legs in white stockings and pristine black loafers. Touko winched when she realized she was gawking and turned away, hoping the other hadn’t noticed her. She brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and fixed her eyes on her book, determined to look up no more, until the newcomer crossed the floor in measured steps, and pulled out the chair opposite Touko’s.

 _“H-Hey—”_ Touko lifted her head to argue, and promptly fell silent. Where windswept locks should have been, she saw a braid arching from one temple towards the other like a hairband, and the glasses had been swapped for a pair of contact lenses, but whether they were framed by a write rim or dark mascara, the piercing look in those teal eyes was just as she remembered. That lovely apparition – not _Byakuya,_ but unmistakably _Togami_ – hesitated for a moment, then perched themselves on the chair and cleared their throat, one hand slipping to their white stock tie.

“It’s rude to stare, Touko,” they gave her a half look, their voice low with a hint of quiver. Touko blushed and bowed her head.

“I-I, didn’t mean to… but you’re… you’re _beautiful…”_ she skipped from word to word like they were stepping stones in a raging river. On the shore, her friend waited till she looked up again.

“Call me Polaris today,” they lowered both hands and clasped them in their lap.

 _“Polaris…_ What a beautiful name…” whispered Touko, so entranced that she never noticed the way Sayaka pressed Ikusaba Mukuro’s hand before she left her girlfriend’s table to attend _theirs._

**Author's Note:**

> Six years later, instead of rising to the top of the Togami Conglomerate by themselves, Byakuya or Polaris, and their sister Shinobu, became stockholders and valuable partners to the eldest sibling, Togami Masami, whose considerable girth harbored a fat and noble heart. As for Touko, she soon learned to alternate between “my husband,” “my wife,” and “my darling” as the situation occasioned, and found it all very delightful.
> 
> After college, Sayaka and Mukuro sold everything they had for a boat and traveled around the world. They might be sharing a cup of coffee on the Atlantic as we speak.


End file.
